Three Kids and a Colonial Coffeehouse

From the time I was a little girl, my family did not go on vacations. We went on field trips. Other families were hitting the beach, while we were touring museums, exploring national parks, and partaking in cultural festivals. My grandfather and mother are both educators, so we love learning. Learning’s our favorite.

But, our very favorite place to visit was, and still is, Williamsburg, Virginia. Colonial Williamsburg to be exact. We would wear our mob caps and tricorn hats proudly, as we traipsed from the Governor’s Palace to the Shield’s Tavern, and everywhere in between.

To enter the historical town, we board shuttles at the visitor center. These shuttles act as time machines, transporting us back in time, to the late 18th century. Once in the magical town, we interact with all the characters of the past, and watch them carry on with their authentic 1773 lifestyle.

This all sounds really great, right? Well, picture this. A colonial coffee shop, including all the hot liquid and china dishes imaginable, and three children, ages 3, 2, and 1. If that phrase didn’t bring you immediate anxiety, then you should be a fighter pilot.

This was our first trip back to Williamsburg since the two younger kids were born. We must talk about the relatively new coffeehouse frequently, because Ceci and Piet both announced, several times, “I want a spot of coffee!” So, against our better judgement, we ventured on.

As we entered the building, we were greeted by Robert Carter, and he began our tour by telling us about himself and his life, but I’m honestly not really sure, because Kammie was determined to make the sitting room her own personal play ground.

She giggle-yelled as she ran from fireplace hearth, to sharp furniture corner. I quickly scooped her up, and whisper-sang her “The Wheels on the Bus,” until she quieted down. But this all happened just in time to move to the next room, where Carter’s servant had more education for us.

In this room, Ceci became increasingly irritated that this is not where the coffee was served. “WHERE IS THE SPOT OF COFFEE?” I quickly glanced around the room, as an apologetic plea. The room was full of retired couples, soaking in the educational experience, and there we were, ruining it.

As we finally moved into the coffee room, the kids were overwhelmed with excitement. As the servant walked around and poured the period-authentic coffee, which was basically just grainy, chocolate, coffee-pudding, Kammie zig-zagged through chairs, and feet, while Jacob chased after her.

Piet and Ceci sat, patiently waiting for their “spot of coffee.” Once poured, Piet dove right in. With each spoonful he ate, he wrinkled his nose, and shook his head in disgust. This didn’t stop him from continually shoveling in spoonfuls. Others quickly noticed his reactions, and giggled at his silliness. One even passed us some cream to help with the bitter taste.

After I added cream, he tasted it, and immediately gave me a thumbs up. Laughs broke out around the table. “MORE!” he shouted. “Whisper,” I responded. “more!” he whisper-shouted. *face-palm*

Then, he dove right in, dropped his spoon on the floor, and slurped down big gulps of the thick goo. When he placed the cup down, a ring of chocolate smudged his face. Another thumbs up. Another *face-palm*.

As the tour came to an end, we thanked/apologized to everyone. The kids were so excited about their “spot of coffee,” and pled to go back right away. But, mommy might need a couple years to recover.

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